Infinite Paradox
by Silver Blazen
Summary: There had been times where Tony felt in incapable of fixing Steve Rogers. How could he ease a soldier's pain? He allowed a division to come between them; shutting that need of restoration out, without admitting that he was at fault with his own convictions. Maybe there's still a chance to repair the damage? Maybe they need to make to right the choice that will define their future.
1. Chapter 1

**_Infinite Paradox_**

 ** _All characters belong to Marvel Comics_**

* * *

 _Do me a favor and walk away from this..._

 _Afraid I can't do that, Tony, he's my friend._

Things had changed at the point of no return. At the moment Steve's shield clanged on the ground, everything was buried. Tony watched Steve limp away with on arm securing Bucky as they both left a trail of blood. A good man walked from his reach, a friend, and commander who took defense on a broader scale.

Tasting the blood paste of over his split lip, Tony was left behind to find direction for a new road. In some way, he knew that his trust had been revoked from Steve's heart.

Like a slow burn of vodka, blood dripped further into his throat, obstructing air as he fully became dismantled. He couldn't repair what his remorse had led him to accomplished. It felt terminal. The shield was left from him to pick up, but he just stared at the silver star, the claw marks that scraped into the red paint.

He wanted to touch it, and return it back to Steve, end the division and make amends to Barnes. He wasn't brave enough to face them. Maybe tomorrow, he would prove that he could be genuine with forgiveness.

 _Not today._

Steve faded away. There was a brief swell of tears and echo of pain, the hollow ice of chamber held every sob he released in that slow moment of time of being alone to pick himself up again. Tony winced, his shaking fingers shadowed over the shield, testing the firmness of his clutch, he felt a searing cold enter his bones. The choice was impossible to avoid. He detested everything, and eased back, glaring back at the smears of red- imprints betrayal. "I can't do it," he whispered in a protest, those words drilled into his heart.

The aftermath of his rage war had torn them apart HYDRA was the root of evil, the ones accountable for the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark. Bucky was a puppet on strings, compliant to follow orders. He was a ghost trapped inside a reactivated machine.

Under better emotions, he could have reasoned with grief and found a logical solution to look harder between the negatives of that collected footage of the crash. Instead, Tony isolated all sentiment and allowed every surge of escalated hate to control his actions. He had Captain America's blood on his hands.

Zemo turned each them into gladiators, a fight to the death, to end the Avengers. Steve had rammed the shield into his arc reactor, damaging his chest as he felt the weight of it crushing into his ribs. He wondered if Steve's intentions were meant to immobilize him.

 _Red dripped over Steve's clenching knuckles, a color that poisoned his mind with searing rage, as he settled an intent glare on the torn leather of his gloved hand, Steve watched the blood run down Tony's battered face, gashes were engraved into bruised and welted skin, as red smeared over his goatee and neck. The billionaire was underneath Steve's unyielding weight, fully immobilized with utter shock, as his dark hazel eyes glinted back refractions of light, breath drew up into a heavy wheeze from his swollen lips._

 _One pulse of unrestraint and Steve was saddled over his armor, teeth gritted and driven by cold rage as he allowed anger to control him: there was no resistance reflecting back, just pure remorse. He wasn't Captain America, just a soldier executing an order to take down the enemy:the one who threaten to breach his home._

 _He lifted his shield and prepared to ram into the arch reactor. The glow reflected in his_ livid _blue eyes, there was no holding back, lines had been crossed and the war needed to end._

 _"This is for Bucky…" He unleashed a raw and throated scream, tearing his heart into shreds as the_ vibranium _clang into Stark's chest, leaving a dent in the wake of its hard descent._

 _Steve stumbled off, gravity forced him into a kneeling position as he drove the brutal force of shield into Stark's reactor, damaging the protective barriers of alloy and Tony felt his heart jolt as it the sleek rim collided into his ribs. Steve was relentless, never hesitating to deliver another surge of pain as jet blood sloped over his bruised jaw. "You hear me…This is for Bucky!"_

His hand was a centimeter or so away from the shield. He knew it would be heavy to lift.

"No..." He was haunted by the recollection that he had been on a rampage, he could have killed Bucky Barnes, became the harvester of death just like how the world once viewed him, but something prevented him from aiming a heated blast into Bucky's chest.

In those last seconds when his heart thundered in his chest, he surrendered his unresolved grief to mercy and allowed the murderer of his parents to walk away.

Tossing his dented face plate, Tony slammed his fist into the cement, sucking back a heavy breath. He denied strength in his hand and collapsed flat on the cold surface, listening to the ice crackle around him. He was falling into the abyss. "Was he really my friend?" he asked in seized of painful breaths, exposing an uncertain throb as it seemed constant in his chest.

He closed his eyes, wanting to purge the nightmare that felt inescapable to awake from.

"Why did I make him bleed?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Infinite Paradox_**

 ** _{2}_**

* * *

"C'mon, Buck, stay with me," Steve chanted out harshly, breath swelling in his wounded chest. He was pushing himself to the limit. The journey out of the Soviet missile silo was unendurable, coldness scraped in his lungs. A wet trickle of blood made a slow descent over the sharp curve of his bruised jaw. He felt gravity underneath the tread of his boots, giving away as he hauled Bucky's slumped heavy weight over his shoulder. Unknownst to the snowy haze, his best friend was grasping onto wakefulness. The extent of the pain didn't relent.

Despite the welters of blood dripping over his taut lips, Steve carried in his determined strides; fighting the concussions of dizziness obstructing his blue eyes as tears distorted his vision. Pines trees bordering the mountain pass became distant and hazed blotches of unreachable illusions. He couldn't avoid the impending void of exhaustion. A slight limp in his paces grew evident to the pain seizing in his tensed muscles. He gripped onto faith at the divided moment, knowing that somehow they would out of the storm alive. If he was destined to move forward, he needed to find his guiding anchor before defeat would ground him.

His heart thumped wildly. Red dropped over the blankets of white, coloring over the imprints of his unbalanced footprints. There was no denying that he pushed himself to the limit; Tony's blood smeared over his blemished knuckles, a visible reminder of his ultimate and choice to save Bucky from an aimed repulsor blast in the chest. A ripple of unhinged guilt matched the sync of blood rushing through his chilled veins.

Steve glanced into the familiar shadows of regret. He lost traction in his boots as he fell deep into solace. His disinterest to dial Tony's number only increased as his blue eyes leveled into a hardened glint at the ring of bruises coloring on his knuckles. His bones felt unscrewed as he faltered in his regal stance while he eased the last remnants of pain before casting a gaze to the emptiness of the snowy void. He was lost in deep thought. No focus on his surroundings as he barely registered cold slashes of wind. He couldn't tame the balance of discarded emotions. He couldn't hold everything in. Tony and him, never understood each other from day one.

 _...You don't deserve that shield._

Differences were scaled by ideals and choices. He was a soldier who was stuck in an endless war, who fought for the protection of defining innocence and the noble cause of ensuring the right of freedom to everyone who imagined it. The refueling of his choices to evade the Accords demoted him to feel indifferent, to edge closer to the dark side of his stowed reservations.

* * *

 _Rage fueled torrents of adrenaline as Steve grounded his steeled weight over Iron Man's armor, raising the shield to bash into the face plate. Mercy was shredding. He was no longer harboring resistance-nothing would be held back. The balance of betrayal and vengeance had been bisected and Bucky was laying on the cement, immobilized with only a stump frayed metal attached to a heap of singed alloy._

 _With his blue eyes blazing into depths of a furious storm, Steve gave Tony no opening to_ _relent his defense, he violently rammed the shield into the helmet with brutal and bone-crushing force. Sparks flew at impact. He tore the face plate off and stared down at rivets of blood smeared over Tony's suave and aging features. Surges of white-hot pain were inducing his unhinged vengeance. The semblance of Captain America vanished in a contortion of livid remorse. It was nearly driving him to a point of no return. "You never gave Bucky a chance..." Breath heaved out shallow pants. Thoughts ambushed his mind as he barred his teeth, letting the shield hang inches over Tony's chest. The bluish glow of arch reactor reflected in the red painted alloy._

 _In one acrid seethe fuming out of his tight lips, Steve raised his arms high at impaling width and glared at the billionaire with a sheen of unshed tears._ _"He is my friend. Always will be..."_ _A vicious seize of emotion had creased his bloodied face, tears washed over the welts and deep gashes; when the shield crashed down. And so did his world. In reaction, to the unmerciful clash, Tony raised his arms to guard his chest but the shield divided them apart as thunderous clangs of vibranium echoed through the chamber, metallic chassis was cracking open as Steve pressed all his raw strength against the shield._

 _A taste of blood clogged his senses as he felt the harnessed power surging through him. Darkness overtook him._ _The call for retribution was brimming. He was determined to inflict harm, to unleash all instincts to protect his friend._

 _It was a natural defense that wouldn't abate. Bucky's life was on the line, and he couldn't allow his best friend- his brother -to endure pain. Not again._ _It was a test of will and strength. He wouldn't relent, because if he did, he feared that Bucky would pay the price._

 _Right at that direct moment of using caliber precision with his arms, Steve felt closer to the edge and unstable to anchor himself down._

 _'What have you done, Rogers?'_

 _Awareness came back to him as drops blood painted the ground. Evidence that he was on the verge of turning into a killing machine. A strange hollowness overtook as he relented from the assault and drove all his intent at the dent face plate he tossed to the ground._ _Despite speed being a vital skill in combat, could also become a ravaging force controlled by a murderous surge of impulse that would have instilled pain._

 _It felt like everything turned against him, he wielded the power to kill Stark, but as he stared deeply into Tony's wetted hazel eyes filled with open panic, he let go of the shield and stopped himself. Enough blood was shed between them. He slid his thighs back and eased his faltering weight of Tony's armored body._

 _A flood of emotions immersed against his aching heart, and he was drowning in pain. No words came between them. Steve limped towards Bucky and hoisted him gently up against his chest, never looking back at Tony as he dropped the shield. He drove his focus on Bucky...That's all he focused on._

 _'I'm sorry, Tony...'_

* * *

Realization struck his diminishing spirit. He wasn't the heartbeat of the Avengers, not anymore. The choices he made out of defiance and the unbreakable promise he vowed to Bucky had made him become an outcast. Captain America was the prevailing hero to carry the banner of freedom, he was shredded down into a false illusion of reactive compromise. He fell as a soldier, not as that star-Spangled poster boy everyone idolized in comic books and on trading cards. He never wanted to be a hero, just a symbol of unyielding hope that the world could reclaim their taken freedom if people became unified in strength to take a stand against the darkness.

"Hang in there, Buck," he beckoned to his friend in an urgent rasp, securing his tattered glove hand over Bucky's neck, entwining through damp tresses of dark unkempt hair, and felt his weakening pulse. He knew Bucky never will never quit fighting. He had himself push onward and find a safe house close to their range of walking distance. Medical attention was vital.

The stench of metallic and blood hung thickly in the violent gusts of air. A potent evidence that his bleeding out, almost ready to plunge into a void of unconsciousness. He didn't have much time. The last silver flecks of daylight were vanishing behind masses of clouds over the horizon. Darkness would soon cover the Siberian landscape. Breath was strained as he managed to force words of genuine promise. He wished to his good faith that he would keep it."We're gonna make it through, Buck." A faint smile cracked over his split up as a fond childhood memory immersed through his mind."Remember when I was too dumb enough to walk home on a busted ankle, you carried me back home."

Bucky stirred back to consciousness, his eyelids faintly opened to reveal the pale flecks of icy blue in his eyes. He parted his lips, tasting the dried blood that was smeared over his stubbled jaw and he tasted its bitter tang. "S'much fun," he slurred in a hastened Brooklyn drawl tilting his head up to glance at Steve through wolfish and loose tresses. His feet dragged over the snow. He wasn't wholly focused. The brutal onslaught of pain kept him stiff as his exposed fingers gripped over Steve's shoulder guards. He lost his ability of discipline, his athletic bulk was doused in sweat. He wasn't the lethal and efficient HYDRA combatant, just a battered down soldier relying on his captain to bring him home. "Where are we heading, Steve?"

"I don't know," Steve whispered in heaviness, he paused in his strides and traded a passive glance to the darkened forest ahead. Wariness snatched his defiance. He felt directionless, leading Bucky towards an unknown encampment of trees that would lead them to an inevitable death by a wild animal picking up their weakened scent.

He squared his jaw, feeling the leather strap of his helmet digging into his flesh. The searing coldness was freezing his bones raw, he could barely command an effort to move another inch. The edge of darkness was casting over them."Our best bet is to keep movin', if we don't we'll be goners by nightfall. Either the cold will get us or something less friendly will."

A stiffened groan emitted from Bucky's grimacing lips. He knew that his slacked weight was dragging Steve down. A devoid of choice shadowed his eyes, as glints of light reflected so deeply of frosted blue. A taut scowl revealed his extorting remorse. He whispered with a harsh edge of disdain."You should leave out here, I'm no good to you anymore...Hell, I'm no good to anyone."

"Buck, don't you dare say that," Steve grounded out in a heartbeat. The firmness of his baritone was fading as gobs of blood dripped out of the gash carved in his cheek. His face became fractured with unbidden pain. At that moment when his grimace was hidden by shadow, everything felt lifeless-unreachable. Bucky's wretched-stricken words lanced into his chest, opening the gap wider.

Masking a sting of tears with cold determination, Steve involuntarily narrowed the fierce intensity of his azure eyes down at his best friend. He wondered how long he would have until HYDRA's programming slipped back into Bucky's mind. His shaky hand gripped over Bucky's fleshed shoulder, defining a hushed penance as his fingers coiled over the singed leather. "We're finishing this mission together," he amended in a raw exhale, shifting his rigid weight to Bucky's side. In truth, he didn't want to lose his best friend again."M' not gonna leave you. Never again."

A grunt escaped passed Bucky's gnashed teeth, his gruff undertone crackled in a rasp. He glanced blearily up at the battered super-soldier. Tears welled in his listless eyes, he possessed the limited strength to deliver a cold and severe acceptance of the imminent fate before them."S-Steve," he breathed out a ragged stutter, his eyelids were fluttering closed as his voice failed him."Y-you gotta let me fall..."

"Just keep leaning on me, Buck," Steve urged fervently, shielding his arm over Bucky's back. He refused to surrender to the harsh elements around them.

He wouldn't let Bucky sacrifice himself for a sense of redemption. Yes, cherished memories were lost to them, but new ones would arise if they held onto each other.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Infinite Paradox**_

 _ **{3}**_

 _Mr. Stark. We have some news. It's about your parents._

It was like Tony almost had to dare himself to move. Leaning against the orange metallic hood of his Audi-r8, the disgruntled billionaire stood in the middle of the road; searching for an outlet away from the unrepairable grief that roosted within. He was chasing denizens of tormenting memories.

Unsettling torrents of guilt that he couldn't purge; everything inside of him felt defective. He couldn't escape his father's displeasing voice only cause the unbidden pain to drive further into his heart.

 _'When will you ever grow up and face the actuality that you're not invincible, Tony?'_

There was no mechanics or formulas to deal with his unresolved remorse. He lost a good friend: the heartbeat of the Avengers when Zemo played the videotaped footage of the December 16th car wreckage, the exposed truth that wasn't veiled by media: the Winter Soldier-James 'Bucky' Barnes- assassinated his parents in cold blood. Plummeted that metal cybertronic fist with no restraint of hammering and vicious force into his father's skull and mercilessly squeezed the life out his mother without even taking a second glance at her tears.

Holding a half-emptied vodka bottle in the clutch of his bruised hand, Tony steered his hazel eyes towards the bent pine trees where his father's car had bashed into after the Winter Soldier shot out the rear tire. Dread suddenly generated in his stomach, as he advanced closer; trying to reconfigure images of the wreckage.

A charge of nausea barraged his senses, he lost balance, and stumbled onto the graveled road, scraping his knuckles against jagged stones. He needed a terminal from the deep-seeded pain. At the siege of the inescapable moment, the tumultuous grief he harbored felt unrepairable. He clenched his eyes shut; rivets of sweat matted his suave and bruised features as he focused on drawing out hitches of exhales.

"Fri-Friday..." He heaved out, resting his body flat on ground level; his arms splayed out. He the heated crush stones gauging into his back. He gasped repeatedly, listening to the inrushes of blood flow pounding in his ears. He couldn't deny possessive hold of avid sickness that was edging in his vision. A spasmodic pressure caved against his chest, it was a struggle to breathe. He reached in his trouser's pocket and his slotted fingers grabbed his Starkphone trying to assemble his AI, not realizing that he had pressed redial on Pepper's number.

A few dial tones later...

"Tony?"

* * *

The influx of pain was reaching an unbearable level; Steve trudged passed the barren weaves of the forest, pushing himself through the relentless snowfall continued to stretch on for miles across the ridges of mountains. A razor glint of light sliced into the masses of clouds. Night had fallen on them. It was almost a full whiteout. Mounts of snow obstructed his trekking path, as he advanced further into the forest. He used his old compass to direct his unbalanced paces, holding back a swell of regret for abandoning the Quinjet in front of the missile silo; it was the Accords property. Secretary Ross would have tracked the locator beckon within 24 hours of descent. They had to go under the radar.

His throbbing lungs starved for breath. Steve felt his knees buckling as Bucky's slumped weight had become an obstructive force against his heaving chest. Every curve of muscle flexed under the restrictive material of his blue Kevlar uniform when the pressure of 250 pounds wedged into him. Tightening his chilled lips into a grimace, blood coated his tongue with a bitter taste.

Violent sloshes of bile in his stomach roiled as he wished for ease -he needed to carry on for both of them. He panted out a ragged and urgent breath, hoping his best friend was still conscious as he forced stride. Grounding his stance, he veered his feverish blue eyes over the entrenchment of white. No glow of amber light was visible from an inland town. They were too far out.

"Hang on Buck, we're almost there-" he seethed aloud, clenching his teeth. The sting in the bloodied gashes that smeared on his wind-bitten cheeks didn't avail. His memories were in a disarray; he couldn't focus on the ridgeline of pine trees up ahead of him. Every around him was blotched with a haze of exhaustion.

Despite the acceptance of pain, Steve couldn't afford to falter in his paces. The core temperature of his body was decreasing, and the slick trail of blood leaking out of the opened gash of his abdomen grew into a perpetual reminder that his injuries were severe. Darkness was edging in his vision, as he elected to keep his eyes open. Bucky needed him to remain vigilant through the harsh tumbles of snow. "I'll get you out of this," he panted out in a laborious exhale. "No matter what it takes..."

Bucky reined his head up involuntarily to the urging echoes of Steve's voice calling him back out of the void, tangled dark fringes webbed over his glacial blue eyes as fever- beclouding, obstructed his range of vision.

Breath swelled in his chest, and his lips shakily formed into a grimace. He was scarcely on the edge of awareness; drifting further into the ailment possessing his enhanced reserves of strength. His throbbing bones felt unscrewed as if he was ripped apart and welded back together.

"I hear ya, Steve," he rasped weakly, his voice tainted with exhaustion. It hurt to swallow; his throat was becoming raw the exposure of cold as he inhaled the acrid stench of vomit wavering off his ripped jacket. The urge to empty out his bruised stomach grew into an erratic pulse, and with one wrenched heave of releasing bile ; he tasted blood congealing on his quivering lips. The illusion of pain didn't recede. There was a sudden devoid of emotion in his pale aquamarine eyes shadowed by his wolfish fringe."S'orry I-I never meant to..."

"Don't worry about it, Buck," Steve pressed with sternness dragging in his voice. He didn't glance down at the vomit collecting at their boots. He recognized the cadence of despair that was alerting Bucky's voice. The depths of it penetrated deep in him, as he momentary settled his wetted gaze on the shapes of trees. It was cover out of the tumultuous gusts bashing against them. "We gotta make clear for trees," He strained out a breath as he slung Bucky's flesh arm over his neck. He lost traction in his boots, as his knees buckled against the heaviness of Bucky's dense bulk, still, he restricted his footing and remained unshakeable for the present moment. "I know it's risky, but it's our best chance for survival out of the storm."

As his frosted eyes gained a desperate look, Bucky couldn't see past the impenetrable, furious swells of white blanking out the mountain pass, they were knee-deep into the depth of the storm was turning into cascades of ice, slicing into his stubbled jaw as he clung onto Steve's warmth.

The sense of acceptance in Steve transmitted memories before Zola's alterations in the fornix of his damaged mind. The murderous instincts of the Winter Soldier were constant, pulsing in his veins as the rise of a fever increased. He couldn't wield dominance, the damage was surgically deep. Bucky was dueling with two halves of a soul trying to grasp onto an existing conscience against the maniacal impulses to execute Steve. He didn't recede distance.

He harnessed the control of willpower and blocked out the rampant cacophony of haunting screams ravaging in his tortured soul. Ghosts that never slept. Distortions of traumatic memories that weaved into his rampant thoughts. Everything fused together. He couldn't escape from the endless onslaught of unrepentant grief that he harbored. Tightness grew in his chest, as he wrenched his eyelids shut as the scent of blood evoked terrors to awaken from his depths.

 _Good morning, Soldier...I have a mission for you._

* * *

 _Chto takoye moya direktiva..._

 _The darkened sky over the vacant road was blurred, flux of whiteness and ice created indistinct shapes, a frosted and obstructing haze so lurid that he barely could regard the glow of headlights. The mission was ingrained in his mind: extraction and sanction. His dark charcoal leather vest blended with the shadows of branches as he awaited with penetrating stillness on the saddle of his revving motorcycle. The scent of black pine greeted his crinkling nose as he tightened his grip on the handle bars, feeling the brush of coldness pass over his clenched flesh and metallic knuckles. His shoulders hunched as blood pulsed in his ears, the objective of termination wasn't crossed in his sight._

 _Fokus . Delayte to, chto dolzhno byt' sdelano._

 _Around the bend of the road, an Oldsmobile reflected against the faint gleams of street light. Using his elusive methods,_ _he didn't clutch the throttle. He waited for the vehicle to pass. Then, he flicked on the bright light of his cycle, and drove off the mound of a snow bank, chasing the vehicle with precision and speed. His long strands whipped as snow gathered over his stubbled jaw, and his steel-blue eyes gained a baleful look as he glanced at the passenger door, preparing to ram into it at full force. He swerved back, locking his intent gaze on the back tire, and then unholstered his pistol, pulling the trigger back as a flash confirmed the discharge of the bullet._

 _The tire blasted apart, shreds of rubber flung in all directions, as the driver lost control of the back alignment and overturned into a tree. The targets were definitely a man and woman, but he didn't care._

 _He swerved back, locking his intent gaze on the back tire, and then unholstered his pistol, pulling the trigger back as a flash confirmed the discharge of the bullet. The tire blasted apart, shreds of rubber flung in all directions, as the driver lost control of the back alignment and overturned into a tree. The targets were definitely a man and woman, but he didn't care._

 _At the moment of brutal succession, the Winter Soldier dismounted from the bike, pacing with methodical and nonchalant steps towards the wreckage. His combat boots crunched in sync as he made his intended approach to the driver's side. As his intimating shadow obscured the window, with a violent thrust of his metallic arm, he wrenched the door off its hinges, tossing it aside on the street and reached for the elderly driver. Blood was smeared on the leather as the man was barely alert to react._

 _"Maria," the_ _primary target slurred out his wife's name, in forcible heaves of breath, trying to unbuckle his seatbelt."Hold on, darling, I'll get you out..."_

 _A splice of an alarming gasp later, and the older man dragged viciously out of the driver's seat and thrown to the ground, coughing out gobs of blood, and sniffling in pain. His dazed, incredulous eyes resolved on the menacing visage of the assassin as he attempted to lift his bloodied hand, trying to beckon mercy as he stared into a glacial depths of the murderous phantasm._ _"Sergeant Barnes...James?"_

 _Those were echoes of recognition for a ghost. The Winter Soldier blocked out that name, and yanked his target's head back by a tuft of white hair; staring at Howard with a deadened glint in his glacial blue eyes, before pounding his metallic fist senselessly into the man's skull, no mercy pulsed as Howard's head banged rapidly against the dented metal until the bones cracked and his neck disjointed against the brutal force. The man was on the edge of death, surrendering up his last hitch breath. "Bucky...You were my friend..."_

 _...U_ menya _net missiy..._

 _The Winter Soldier receded a step back, watching his target's head droop into a lifeless set. He couldn't absorb those words. He had no name. The cortex of his mind was damaged, memories couldn't exist. He was an executioner: a programmed weapon created to install death. HYDRA was implanted in his veins. Bucky was not his existence._

 _"_ Pokoysya _s_ mirom _," he coldly murmured in a grating voice, grappling on the man's shoulder, dragging the lump of deceased American flesh to the car. He discarded everything that echoed back against the static, and placed the corpse inside, before turning his sight onto_ _his secondary target. His intent would be quick and painless._

 _"Howard?"_

 _His fleshed fingers wrapped around the wife's bloodied throat as she cried in silent mercy, but he never spared her a glance as he clasped a brutal measure of pressure; obstructing her breath until no pulse thumped against his taut palm. She was terminated._

 _His ghostly blue eyes blazed with dark embers of malice as he stalked towards the wrecked vehicle's trunk, and ripped the hinged lock off. Inside there was a metal briefcase. He unlocked the clips and narrowed his stare at the blue medical bags of chilled blood. His directive was_ _completed._


	4. Chapter 4

**_Infinite Paradox_**

 ** _{4}_**

"Нет!" Panic set an upsurge of distress to barrage his conscience, and he wrangled violently against Steve's steady hold, screeching out raw and agonized cries; he couldn't restrain those screeching volumes when floodgates of memories erupted. Heated, errant tears were slipping over his wind-bitten cheeks.

He wanted to run; bury himself into the ice to shut down his mind for the sake of sanity. Each heavy breath swelling in his chest only evoked torrents of feverish blood to infuse searing tension against his pulsing temples. "Izvinite…Izvinite."

With faltering balance, Bucky strained to grip onto the Kevlar straps of Steve's uniform, his paling face contorted into a ravaged semblance of horrific agony. Repulses of amplifying pain shot through him.

The garbled volumes of his choking sobs had seethed up his as he drew out bestial snarls. He wanted that infernal nightmare to end...To cut loose from the entwining strings of HYDRA's control. "They're all dead." He sucked back a stifling breath, and he felt the crushing weight of dread vicing over his thundering heart.

He dug his clenching metal knuckles into the broad expanse of Steve's chest, screwing his eyes shut as crow lines revealed the sudden throes of pulsating onslaught. He was aware of the inrushes of fever that was generating from the mangled and charred flesh of what existed for an arm. He shook his weight painfully, losing stable ground, as the possessive rake of Zola's cold hand scraped over his soul. He was reaching the apex of constant torment. Ghosts of his past became a venomous wake, ultimately grounding him into submission. His thoughts were escalating, all the executions and directives, the smears of blood dripping into metallic rivets of his cybertronic arm, it became his war-life that had no end.

...Gotovy li vy soblyudat', soldat...

He was mounted with conviction, and given a death sentence. He wanted to fall back into the icy abyss of and never wake up. "They were good people," he sucked back a stifling breath, feeling the crushing weight of guilt lessening his incoherent voice. He was fading into delirium, trying to deny reality. Nothing would suffice. "I-I killed em' all."

"Bucky! Stay focus on the mission!" Steve called back in an urgent gasp, bracing his implacable arm over his best friend's evidently convulsing form, attempting to pull him out of the raging tumults of unfettered -immeasurable anguish.

 _Everything was growing seemingly intense; the illusions of Howard and Maria Stark's soulless drained faces bled into his ravaged mind. Smears of blood on broken shards of glass, vacant bodies of men bind in chairs, their faces covered with black sheaths. All his executions unraveled into a consuming void that was dragging him further away from Steve's reach._ "M'sorry…" Bucky hitched out a frantic sob, crashing to his knees as his head tipped downward, curtains of dark tresses hung wildly over his tear streaked face."I remember their faces. She was cryin' out to him and I silenced her…" His bruised flesh hand balled into a squeezing fist. "I-I killed Tony's ma just like every damned mission they zapped into my head."

In reaction to his friend's unstable demeanor, Steve dropped to his knees, grounding himself at Bucky's side and gripped his shoulder; trying to anchor him back. "Buck, it wasn't you," he admonished plaintively and stared into the cold, unblinking depths of Siberian blue shadowed by mussed tresses. Muted rage was evident. "Y'know that it wasn't you followin' their orders…"

 _Disentangled imagery conjured up amorphous demons of his past; he was staring into the inert and inhuman eyes of Alexander Pierce, observing him expectantly as he was restrained under the bolted clamps of the mechanical chair, staring into the halos of light that seared into his eyes. Volumes of sounds and pain converged together as he was surrendering his voice to HYDRA. Mission report. Those were the only decibels he ever heard against the endless static, but he didn't want to answer with compliance._

 _A brutal slap of a backhand seared through his jaw. He head jerked to the side as a strangled whimper ghosted out of his parted lips. He accepted the pain. His bruised cheek flushed as the lingered sting reminded him of his impending punishment. The rhythm of his straining heart faltered. His ladened eyes pulsed with unshed, blinding tears, as fueling contempt was retrained._

 _'Buck?'_

 _Steve's deep resonance echoed back, he was standing in the on the edge of an icy ridge, dressed in a ripped bomber jacket with smudges of blood etched over his broad jaw. His oceanic azure eyes held intensity of a storm, unshakeable, as he extended out an open hand for Bucky to take, hope was still reachable._

 _"Stay with me, Buck…" There was a genuine measure of urgency wavering off the_ supersoldier's _stern lips, unbridled faith that recalled tears to fall, it wasn't real: he couldn't escape._

The variants of Steve's words didn't register to Bucky's addled mind. He shook his head, panting out frantic hitches of frosted breath. A new flow of pained tears glazed in his aquamarine irises. He felt pain inducing against his heart that relentless speed. Finally, he braved a glance back into Steve's pacifying gaze. "Everythin' that the Winter Soldier took from em' it was me," he rasped gravelly, biting hard on his bloodied chafe lip. He sagged deeper into the snow. "I can't shake it, punk, but I remember everythin'…"

"I need you to focus on my voice, Buck," Steve whispered unwaveringly, attempting to restrain a cough erupting in the swells of his bruised chest. Bucky's telltale silence evoked an unbidden rush of unease to infect the back into his subconscious. Nothing could be restrained. He reasoning to defend Bucky against Stark's reawaken vengeance had been explosive, he lost his best girl-Peggy only days prior to the unraveling of the Avengers. When his fists unleashed brutal force into the Mark armor, inducing rage had finally claimed him. He carried the guilt-Howard and Maria Stark's deaths were unburied truths that he tried to elude from Tony. Maybe things would have been different if he played back Zola's footage for his teammate instead of leaving it to rest in the dark. If only he didn't allow his emotions to compromise...Value, honor, and friends were have remained intact.

'Did you know?'

With a slow part of his chilled lips, Steve exhaled a frosted breath. Regardless of the mounting pain, he became anchoring echo for Bucky. They needed to soldier onwards into another battle...Survival. "Look, I know you can't escape what Zola did to you, Buck, but we've got a long night ahead of us."

The very mention of Armin Zola's name triggered insufferable images of surgical instruments drilling into his flesh, electro shocks frying his mind into ash, erasing his soul, memories feeding on his tortured heart. Unleashing an aggressive snarl, he sprang his weight up, threateningly, murderous and rapid like a panther, hurling the snowy ground, as his metallic hand rammed bruising force into Steve's exposed chest.

Heaving out swells of breath, his steel- blue eyes glinted with razor-sharpness, penetrating against drenched and tangled strands. He was having a raging fit. He felt the metal rivets of his arm coil and thrust to steal the air into ramming speed.

"Stop sayin' that damn name," Bucky slurred incoherently, revulsion channeling in his timbre at the second his metal fist deliver a blow into dense cords of muscle, knocking Steve off balance. His mind felt defective, as he was unable look inside himself. All he remembered was the piercing vibrations of surgical blades hacking into flesh and bone, detaching pieces of himself through recoils of unendurable pain. "He did this to me-"

"I know, Buck," Steve coughed; his voice was hard, intense with emotion. He eased his weight up, staggering to gain his footing. Blood dripped over his lip. Sickening remorse was mounting. He felt pain breach his heart, bruising every layer of it. Bucky's cold eyes were leveled at him, wetted in raw tears. He subdued his guilt and strained to ease a throbbing hand on the assassin's shoulder. He knew that redemption wasn't easy, not for them. Tonight, they would try to find home again. He dismissed out a agonized breath, holding back a sheen of tears. He gazed into Bucky's cold, detached eyes, shadowed by lengthy strands as he gave him an abashed look. "I'm s'orry for not comin' back for you."

He gave Steve a slain expression of avid remorse, Bucky went down to his knees, fisting his hands into the ground. His knuckles were becoming scraped raw. He almost doubled over. His mind was growing furious, pulse erratic as plagues of blotches images tainted in red left him blinded against a trek of watery tears, sliding over his clenched, stubbled jaw. Each streak was stuble hints of indiscernible agony that couldn't be left unheeded.

Each time he was reprogrammed to extract his missions for General Karpov, he walked in the darkness, captive in a frozen horror that felt constant to awake from. Only a voice of conscience pulled him out of the abyss, bringing him to the edge of humanity again. Steve was always an echo of memory, even just a small piece of a boyish smile that invariably held unwavering hope or strips of newspaper stuffed in worn out shoes. Those glimpses were real to fall back on. Irreplaceable. His piercing steel-blue eyes connected back to his best friend who reminded adamant as ever, despite the pain he masked.

"What's the point of wastin' your breath on me, Steve," His bewhiskered features morphed into a deadly calm, evident to the murderous gleam in his tearful eyes. "I'm damaged goods. Shoulda let Stark pull the trigger on me…" He wanted to become stripped away from this damning reality. "Woulda been better for everybody."

Bucky bit hard on his bruised lip, wearing a semblance of indifference. The intensity of his steel-blue irises became piercing as a knife; he set his broad jaw into a rigid clench that made the cleft of his thickened chin more pronounced. In an ease of grounded balance of his weight, he crawled to the nearest tree, drawing out wretched sobs while he coughed out blood. Without his metal arm, the stump of flesh was prone to infection.

Favorably, the cold lashes of snowy freeze over the bloodied wounds. He rested against a hard mound of snow and trained a fleeting glance at Steve. Tears streaked over his stiffened jaw, as he parted his lips against a twinge of pain, breath was heavy to free. "I don't understand why you'd helped me, I did so many bad things. I deserved what was comin' for me, Steve."

Steve winced at the volumes of surrender wavering in Bucky's dismal tone. He had numerous reasons to take the painful hits from Iron Man's fists and gave up the shield. For the last two years, he'd chasing down cold leads with Sam Wilson, searching for a glimpse of his best friend. Now, they were salvaging hope together, bruised and homeless, but alive. He took a deep breath, and lowered into a crouch, meeting Bucky's stare. "You're my friend, and that's never gonna change. We'll stick it out, and survive. That's all we can do, Buck."

Moments later, after barely calming down Bucky's unhinged cries, they were huddled underneath the sloping pine branches weighted with snow, the elements around them offered shelter. Steve enveloped his arm over Bucky's back, as his best friend's paling face rested on his bulked shoulder. He was a shield again. He kept his leveled eyes sharp against the relentless squalls of snow. "We gotta stay awake, Buck…"

"Kinda hard when your ass is freezin', punk," Bucky drawled thickly, his blue eyes heavy with feverish exhaustion. Being close with Steve again was silent calming that evoked steadiness against his, torn and defective heart: soul. "Steve," he gurgled out a staggered breath, a livid gaze of frosted blue narrowed at the splotches of blood on Steve's uniform as his heart thundered in his straining chest. He released the depths of his penance. "…'M'sorry for draggin' into this with me, Cap."

In that second, Steve felt a flare of tension easing in his shoulders, his brow furrowed at the distinct cadence of Brooklyn, it sounded like home again. He darted a softened glance at Bucky and felt warmth break the stiffness of his chapped lips, curving a boyish smirk, evident to the blur of unshed tears swelling in his eyes. The closeness of Bucky graced him with an infuse of strength anew to carry on. "Boy, you don't know how long I've missed hearin' you say that, Buck."

Bucky's voice became hushed with unbidden exhaustion. His blood-chapped lips slanted into a faint, noncommittal smirk. A wheeze fled out of his chest."That's what I'd used to call you in uniform, right?"

Breathing out heavy pants, Steve didn't reject that question evoking another revisited memory. Images twisted and ravaged through his mind, the same tumultuous wake of a raging storm of guilt that wouldn't recede. It was haunting. He needed to exhibit strength for Bucky; no gravity of defeat would no longer trace his limping steps. He sucked back a heaving breath, icy air sliced down his throat. "Yeah, but that was on a good day," he quipped, lightly.

Bucky buried his head into Steve's chest, tasting sweat dripping over his blood matted lips. His glaical eyes flashed against the throes of pain that seized his stiff body. In a low rasp of breath, and he allowed the unbidden conviction to trace his disheartened words. "Today hasn't been a good day for any for us, Steve."

"We've still got tomorrow, Buck," Steve whispered genuinely, holding his steeled gaze to the faint glimmers of light casting over the faraway horizon. He knew hope wasn't lost to them, not yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**_{5}_**

Keeping himself adamant against the perpetual barrage of pain, Steve felt treks of blood cooled over the sharpened edge of his bruised cheek, the intensely of his hawkish azure eyes stared out at the fringes of darkness encompassing over the fallow trees. Only the ethereal gleams of moonlight pierced through encroaching masses of snow leaden clouds, as the navy blue of his Captain America ensemble became powdered with descending flurries. Steve refused to drift against the gravitating thralls of sleep, despite that his battered cords of throbbing muscle desired that outlet against the constant influxes of pain; he needed to keep himself vigil, the mission wasn't over, and the level of his will of invincibility rejected to submit to fringes of exhaustion.

As the amassed of light flurries began settling over them, the airy coolness became welcomed relief; Steve registered the heaviness of Bucky's bulked mass pressing hard against his torso, as the rectified assassin re-entered a stasis of deep slumber. A wistful smile twitched Steve's chilled lips, exhumed memories flooded back to him; creating vivid glimpses of their days on the battle front with the intrepid and brazen Howling Commando's. All the harsh nights of withstanding the unknown elements, and how closeness defined their brotherhood.

It felt like Brooklyn again to have Bucky huddled against his chest—the center of their brotherly connection had been reignited. He knew that peace wouldn't return to them just yet, this was a beginning of something of a soul-tearing war he remained unprepared for. His faithful teammates had been disassembled and sent to the Raft, Natasha was in the shadows and Tony would use vengeance as a weapon against Bucky.

Stifling a wince, Steve braced his back against the dormant tree, rigidly. He felt immobilized by each recourse of pain flooding in his veins. The wafting taint of blood never faded over his uniform. A potent reminder of what he surrendered and lost, he felt utterly dismantled. Flashes of distorted memories struck his mind, his azure eyes passively riveted over the flawless, pure banks of snow. "C'mon Rogers, don't back down from the fight," he droned out, raggedly.

The devoid of friendship that reflected in Tony's horrified dark-hazel eyes when the shield viciously aimed to clang into the arc reactor. It happened with the accelerated pace of unbridled fury, unobstructed and viciously merciless. He was absent from restraint, using the lucid sight of bloodied streaks on Bucky's lax, stubbled features to stoke his delayed rage. He had been unbalanced, teetering on the edge of sanity, but he never submitted to void of darkness.

At that defining second of his enhanced power clashing over Tony's shield heart, Steve reined up enough heart and strength to limit himself from driving the shield fully into Tony's armored chest. He made the ultimate choice of walking away, dropping the shield and never looking back. His burdened steps wouldn't revert.

He'd lost so much because he yielded his life to immortal sacrifice, his best girl–Peggy Carter- was just a withering rose frozen in time. Feeling a heated sting of tears breaching for release, his mind sailed back to a distant and beautiful memory that brought forth a rebirth of hope during the darkest hours of his life. Closing his eyes, Steve fell back into ripples of time, deeper and everlasting as the coldness of the air receded as symphonic volumes of music and hearty laughter thrummed in his ears. "Peggy..."

* * *

 _{Flashback}_

 _It felt like she was only a heartbeat away. The sheer elegance of her vibrant scarlet dress was a tempting blaze against the contrasts of shadow. A phoenix. The stalwart avenging captain stood near the old glass doors dividing him from the whiskey haze looming over the bar; he felt out of his depth, uneasy and a little timid._

 _Steve couldn't budge a muscle, not when his hawkish eyes stared intently at her luscious chocolate tresses beautifully pinned with a curl on her forehead, and the pale expanse of her ample breasts, purposely exposed for a distraction to seize her dominance._

 _Feeling his pulse thumping in his ears, Steve gathered himself up, refusing to become slack-jawed when he engaged her exquisite presence. This English dame was sirenic and beautiful; a flawless masterpiece of voluptuous curves and regal stance of poised elegance, he wouldn't dare admit it to Bucky Barnes, that the ravishingly Agent Peggy Carter had stolen his heart._

 _In tantalizing seconds when Peggy froze in her stride under his towering shadow, Steve knew that he was truly—inexpicailty falling in love with her._

 _Sensing Steve's boyish resistance, Bucky wolfishly chased her intoxicating scent of cherry and vanilla, his head was down, still finding gravity in his steps as his steel- blue eyes flitted slowly over the vibrant scarlet that clung to her sensual curves; he was using his brazen and savvy tactics of Brooklyn charm to win her over. Steve receded a step away, believing that he never top Barnes' class act, but to his seemingly unfathomed surprise, Peggy was staring up at him with her ardent brown-hazel eyes, gleaming openly with intense acceptance._

 _Easing down his speeding heart; Steve furrowed his brows in avid reaction to Bucky's encroaching swagger, he became utterly dumbfounded as his throat closed up against the tightness of his unspoken words._

 _Becoming dismantled as he watched Peggy's eyebrow arch, coolly gesturing him to break the silence. All he could gather was a formal introduction, addressing Peggy by the name that defined her steel-hearted spirit in their ranks. He pressed his full lips shyly, feeling out of depth and more like the little guy. "Agent Carter…" he exhaled, roughly._

 _There was a fleeting glimpse of disappointment in her dark irises, Peggy closed the distance, pulling herself closer to the strapping twenty-five-year-old Brooklyn soldier. Her scarlet velvet dress grazed the solid expanse of enhanced muscle that he concealed under the bronze material of his service uniform._

 _"Captain," she coyly matched his formality, leveling her dark jeweled eyes at his faltering smirk. Her ruby lips widened into a radiant smile, evident to a blaze of desire that she harbored."Not in the mood of stepping up to dance tonight, I thought you would already have a partner?"_

 _Steve couldn't elude the harmonize pulse that was reintensifying between them; the closeness was reachable to grasp, just like when he first emerged out of the cradle, baked in feverish sweat and unbalanced with a dense heaviness of thick muscles that molded him into a Greek warrior. He remembered vividly, Peggy standing under his towering shadow, her lithe fingers deftly splaying over his bare and solid pectorals as a fusion of rebirth was ignited. It seemed like every chance they had before, there was always a torturous and infinite gap that distanced them._

 _He needed to share one dance with her before he would gear up for another battle siege with the Howling Commandos. He parted full his lips sheepishly. "Peg-Agent Carter," he stuttered unsure how to proceed, his heart was thrilling in his tensed chest. Maybe now would be the moment of asking her to join him for a dance. He gulped down a hastened breath. "Would you, I mean if you're not…"_

 _He glanced at Bucky giving him a coltish smirk for the umpteenth time, which only seemed to derail his confidence. 'No bailing this time, Rogers'… He met her imploring chocolate irises, gleaming excitingly as he tried to match her silent request. Nothing would be deterred."Agent Carter, would you like to dance with me, I won't step on your feet."_

 _In those stringing moments of tension, Peggy wanted to define their proximity, but the choice of open submission couldn't be met, not even with America's new golden boy. She had reservations and the vexatious flare that ignited in her core when she caught Steve reluctantly kissing that blonde frizzy haired secretary behind the filing cabinets surged with a repulse._

 _He wasn't ready to engage in a dance…at least not yet._

 _Distracting herself from thralls of temptation, Peggy pulled out her golden designed compact mirror, giving a fleeting glance at her visage caught in reflection and pretended that Steve was invisible for a moment. "Are you sure that you don't have another partner waiting for you over there, Captain? she coyly incurred, setting her dark eyes heatedly on his boyishly smooth features, turning her mirror purposely to create a glare in his cool azure eyes. "You wouldn't want to keep her waiting?"_

 _Hearing the tartness in her sharpened words, felt like he turned on a different axis, a raw and tumultuous fever came into wake as Peggy's words breached his heart. There was no escape from this betraying moment; Steve could feel slick drops of heated sweat gliding over the bulges of his rigid muscles, he was lost into her ethereal beauty as she stood under the ambiance of hazy light, untouchable and downright beguiling. Everything fell into a blurring contrast. He couldn't even see Bucky drifting behind him._

 _Sucking back a breath, he stepped a breadth of an inch closer to her and made his unfaltering resolve, it was irrevocable. He had to set things right, fix his errors, and prove to Peggy that he loved her—not just for a dance partner, but for the steel-hearted woman that still blossomed hope that pierced within the dark fringes of war._

 _"Agent Carter," His deep timbre cut through the low glissando volumes of the piano and unruly voices, holding a modest drawl of the Brooklyn kid beyond the command of Captain America."What happened with that blonde dame last night…Er, I never intended to kiss her, more than anything I was waiting for a chance to be without you…" A faint wistful smile played intently on his quirking lips."I guess M' still waiting."_

 _Peggy heard his dismal omission before he spoke it. An electrifying pulse thrummed through her, deafening the raucous volumes of hearty laughter that rang out in the other room, she pivoted on her heels with graceful poise, her hand clenched into an effective fist, displaying her innermost resistance, she couldn't become a damsel and wait for handsomely daring Captain America to sweep her off her feet._

 _Daring to look back at the young captain, she smiled beautifully with an effort of restraint, steeled the ease of her emotions, despite the fleeting dullness of throb generating in her chest. Maybe there was still a chance to dance with him back into the warm haze of light, contrasting over of red and milky-white skin made her appear forbidden—ethereal._

 _Feeling mesmerized by the steadfast intensity of his focused gaze, devastated, Peggy, set her evening bag on an empty stool behind her, locked her deep brown eyes with his seraphic eyes reflecting serene azure depths, holding him captive, as he virtually became breathless. "We might have time for one dance, Captain…" She implored in a silken tone, betraying everything she kept in existence of true romance when a soul-driven choice defined her heart. "Are you willing to take the lead, or shall I?" she implored, determinedly._

 _His heart was thundering a rapid pace in his chest, Steve boyishly raked his large hand over his tousled blond hair, swallowing hard against the stammer rising up his throat. The moment waiting to be released would defy the gravity of his own resistance._

 _Biting on his tauten lips, indecisively, he drew out a cleansing breath, tensed silence hung between them, his anxious gaze was rapidly flitting back to Bucky, who casually sagged against the doorframe, sipping another glass of refilled whiskey. The smug expression openly plastered on the young sergeant's broad chiseled face effortlessly conveyed brotherly confidence: something that Steve wholly needed. 'Oh boy…'_

 _Deepening his eyebrows into a furrow, Steve eased out a heavy breath. He felt wantonly thrown against the force of her challenge. Shifting his massive bulk into a grounded stance; it felt utterly exhilarating and unbearable for him. He pressed his shapely lips into a hard wince, and his large hand reached, shaking fingers traced a deft glide over the sleek and thickened curve of her hipbone, as the breach of their closeness was made._

 _His heart pounded into full acceleration as his timid senses were engulfed by her floral scent. He needed to dance with her. Salvaging what resistance he had left, his palm moved smoothly in a harmonic pulse of reignited courage, and rested flat at the center of her back, holding her steady. "Okay, I can do this…" he murmured barely a whisper, breathlessly._

 _Feeling the moment extending into an interlude of a dream, Peggy followed in sync, placing her dainty hand on the broad width of his shoulder, adjoining herself perfectly against hard planes of his torso as her other hand grabbed his larger hand, with encompassing reverence of trust and promise as their fingers interlocked as the moment was seized._

 _Effortlessly, Steve lifted her hand to the level of his chest, mastering the air of a valiant gentleman; allowing the music to guide their steps, languid and tentative until they infinitely soared into a waltz of parallel rhythm; feeling the crescendos of their heartbeats being conquered with a fluid rush of grace. There was a falter in his steps, Peggy curved her lips sweetly, holding his stare with a clarity of earnest desire."Just keep your eyes on me, Captain._

 _Sternly nodding, Steve felt a soft warmth tug at his lips when he listened to her reeling voice beautifully adorn him by his befitted rank. It defined the noble and unyielding spirit that harbored within._

 _The openness of his smile reached the stillness of his eyes, enhancing the pools of azure into an incandescent crystal that almost reminded Peggy of distant starlight, they were lost in the other's mirroring gaze. He quirked his lips slightly, swaying with her guiding steps; feeling his toes brushing clunky against her heeled shoes._

 _They matched the slow pace of crackling record playing inside the crowded tavern; blissfully unaware that Bucky in secret was grinning rashly, casting a wistful glance at them embracing into feverish harmony._

 _"I still gotta be dreamin', punk," Bucky snorted out a hearty chuckle, smoothly nipping on his underlip as his unwavering steel-blue eyes fell back onto his best friend dancing with an English bombshell who never pulled away when Steve stepped on her toes. He wouldn't damper Steve's moment; it was a dance that needed to carry on without him being the imposing —protective — big brother._

 _A tight smile broadened knowingly over Bucky's shapely arched lips, as he whispered in a graveled Brooklyn drawl against the overwhelming sense of inevitably that felt weighted against his heart. "Now, show her how a real Brooklyn kid dances, punk." Taking a steady breath, he alighted, genuinely, feeling the edges of his mouth quirked, forming a brotherly smirk. "Be the little guy…"_

 _As his temperature blitzed with the awareness of an inrush fever, Steve traced a questing hand over Peggy's svelte curves, doing his utmost not to break their matched rhythm. There was a slow pause in his footing, gleams of hesitation were evident in his azure irises, but soon every doubtful thought suddenly vanished as he tentatively lifted his hand to her jaw, with graceful delicateness and tipped her chin up to openly meet his softened lips. 'I can do this…'_

 _Delivering a sensual caress with a conscious effort, his rough fingers marveled deftly over the smooth angles of her polished cheekbones, heatedly brushing off her rich chocolate ringlets with a rise of his palm; utterly entranced by her cherry fragrance Steve gently angled his head down, feeling her breath cool against his skin when the point of his nose ghosted over her pale cheek, intensity of fire and ice entwined into a searing contrasts of desire—nothing ever felt so perfect and real._

 _Doing her damnedest to grip onto reality, coaxingly in her allure, Peggy tilted her head up, welcoming the intense closeness of his beautiful masculine lips as her body demanded to respond._

 _Her eyes closed against the thermal wake of his empowering heat possessing over her flesh and she parted her lips to the descent of his devotion to her; colliding with a soft roll of his feverish mouth, breaths were shared in unison as each gliding arch of their lips moved in sync. He kissed her deeper, capturing the swell of her mouth as she felt his nose burying into her cheek. Every sense became shockingly dominated against blissful -divine-shivers running through their veins. The cacophony around them deafened as voices in the background faded into murmurs. It felt like he fell into eternity, the pace of his heartbeat steadied._

* * *

Every day was a wage of emotions, that Steve buried deep, using his drive for commanding the Avengers to derail his unbidden grief. Now, he was a wanted fugitive, a betrayer to the patriotic colors of red, white and blue he fiercely embodied –he needed to remain off the grid, find a new road to take, hidden for his eyes only and restore his teammates' freedom. The call of resistance was beckoning to him again.

His heart felt like deadweight in his chest, crushing and throbbing while his rampant thoughts engaged the impelled reality. Perhaps there was a way out for them, maybe surviving the cold nights ahead would grant them strength to ultimately face their demons. A blaze of uncompromising pain shot through the bulk of his chest where Tony's repulsor blast struck him down. He gnashed his teeth, drawing out a frosted breath as a cold haste of air penetrated his lungs. He wouldn't surrender to failure; he never backed down, and his prevailing deadlock of survival was a trial that he had to endure.

 _'Let's give em' hell, Cap...'_

In a conscious attempt to ignite his steeled resolve, Steve pulled out his compass, just a relic that he stowed away in his belt's pouch, a timeless memento of Captain America's sacrifice that seemed to never fade. He opened the top and dismally glanced at the grainy newspaper clipping for Peggy's ravishingly youthful face that he glued before he engaged for his first mission with the Howling Commandos. She was always his spinning arrow in the dark, leading him onward to every direction that his faith carried him through.

At the present moment of being gripped back into the reflections of a convex mirror of vivid memories; Steve wanted to make a damn difference in Bucky's isolated-tortured life; find a new recourse of direction and restore the damage. There was no retreat. He couldn't avoid his own faults. He needed to prove to his heart, that embers of Brooklyn defiance still kindled. He was still the soaring eagle of light, his valorous spirit wouldn't submit-not ever. "S-Steve, you okay?"

Alarmingly, Steve reeled back as a monotonous slurring, incoherent timbre reached his throbbing ears. Bucky was stirring awake. His brow pinched into a tensed furrow underneath unkempt dark tresses, while a throated groan hastened out of his full-widened lips. Momentary anguish had receded, but bone searing coldness returned. He eased his head off the hard muscle planes of Steve's chest, blinking as his steel-blue irises adjusted blurrily on the encompassing forest around them. Another stifling groan passed his lips, followed by an uttering wince. "H-How long was I out?"

"No more than a few hours, not even daybreak yet," Steve answered, firmly, and intensely glanced down at the hunk of singed, bloodied flesh that was attached to Bucky's left shoulder. A searing evidence that he needed to get medical supplies, close up the exposed wound before an infection penetrated through."We gotta move out by mornin' and find a hospital within the nearest town..." He paused in staccato breaths, feeling a cold wake of pain douse through his veins as he caught a drop of blood leaking from Bucky's severed limb. "Your shoulder isn't lookin' that good, Buck."

Stunned by a flash of agony, stiffening the heaviness of his jaw, Bucky's dazed eyes widened as his eyebrows arched, wintry aquamarine depths liquefied into heated ice against the riptide of pain throbbing in his severed deltoid muscle. His teeth dug into the swell of his raw lip, easing out a hastened breath of indifference. "I'll live..." He shrugged off with a silent grunt, bemusingly. "Pain doesn't bother me anymore, hell, M' so used to it, this feels like a sheet in the wind against me..."

He snorted out a throated chuckle of levity, holding Steve's gaze that fiercely reflected back to him as blue lightning penetrating through ice. "S'nothin'," he murmured in a faint slur, gearing his resilience up to face the taxing journey ahead of them. "You gotta believe me, Stevie, I know what kinda pain to hold back."

Emitting a groan against the sudden queasiness roiling in his bruised stomach, Steve pursed his lips into a wistful grimace, exhaling slow measured breaths. Driving his stare at the splotches of red below his rigid leg, he realized that he was bleeding. A gash was cut deep into his flesh and the heated slickness cooled in a painful sting. He wouldn't become quashed by battle injuries. He needed to soldier onward-he needed to grip onto the infinite reality before them. Bracing his arm over his bruised midsection, he gained a stoic countenance, taking back control against the scope of their fate."Yeah, I bet, but I need you to stay awake, Buck, we've got a lot of ground to cover."

Giving Steve a short nod, Bucky rasped out lazily against a wince. His tongue licked the split gouge in his underlip. He managed to curve his mouth quirked boyishly into an easy smirk, despite the flare of phantom throbbing generated from his damaged rotor cuff, pieces of chrome-metallic dug into the bloodied and swollen flesh. He welcomingly accepted each nauseous ache, he whispered huskily. "That I can do, Steve..."

"Y'know if we make it out of this alive, there's no going back..." Steve affirmed in a weighted breath, sparing his best friend with a look holding the utmost of his sincere regard. He tentatively rested his gloved hand into a clutch over the broad width of Bucky's right shoulder, holding an unyielding promise of reassurance with a subtle delivery of his brotherly strength."We're gonna fight, every day to get back, home, Buck, won't be easy, but I will never leave your side."

"Don't short change yourself, punk..." Bucky scoffed back, dryly with a vexatious edge chasing his deep Brooklyn twang. A guttural moan chased his strained breaths, as he eased his head back against Steve's broad shoulder, tresses draped over his pinched brow and whisked at the curved edges of his shapely lips. He felt his vision blearing. The extent of pain generating from his shoulder blades didn't recede. He still felt the pulsations of Iron Man's repulsion blast searing into his stiffened body. _Too much pain._

It was a damnable reminder of his past sins. He deserved more than Siberian frostbite...He deserved to spend the rest of his life caged within the Raft. There was no mileage of freedom to tread; he was a weaponized-stone cold executioner, a murderous beast leashed by HYDRA, not a hellbent kid from Brooklyn. Just a ghost in the machine. Right at this painstaking moment, he wanted to remove the Gerber Mark II knife out of his boot, and gut his heart out; he didn't want to Steve to become victimized by the cold stokes of hostile fire he harbored within. The Winter Soldier was only an unhinged and throbbing heartbeat, teeming to become released. He measured the proximity of revoking despair. _'I gotta run...Gotta give Stevie a chance to make it through...'_

Feeling a rush of unnameable panic electrify his bones, Bucky pinched his eyelids shut, measuring out deep exhales of ragged breath. He wanted to purge the soul-draining wickedness that strafed through his tormented soul. One slip up and he would devolve into the basest of that rabid monster again. He couldn't go back; he just couldn't. His mind was becoming assailed with repeats of inconstant thought.' _You don't deserve anythin', Barnes...No runnin'...Hell, stay with Stevie...Until the end of the line.'_

Bucky flashed his eyes open, settling the cool aquamarine of his glistening depths onto the spangled colors, muted and dulled from battle. To him, they were vestiges of hope that he instinctively latched onto. "D'you think I...uh..." He habitually chewed on his bottom lip, tasting the brackish tang of blood. It was a futile dream to believe that somehow he would be restored. His deep timbre wavered a bit grated fringed with guilt-stricken resonance. Sincerely was assailing. "...will ever be free Steve," He furrowed his brows, tensely. "M' tryin' to block everythin' they put into me out, but I know that M' gonna keep fightin', done it all my life."

"Buck..." Steve admonished with a breathless whisper.

Bucky shrugged off a grimace, nonchalantly. He was strongly disgusted at his own vulnerability, sick to his soul at his continuance betrayal -he terminated Howard Stark, all those innocent people caught in HYDRA's crossfire—so many graves to chase down. He knew that his chances of redemption were thin, but glimpses of forgiveness could still be seen if he located all the names of the ghosts written in his notebooks.

 _'I remember all of em'...'_

Now, everything was unveiled by the basest of his unforgivable crimes. He could feel his heartbeat slowing as cold, sickening needles inserted a wake of sting into his flesh-numbing him to the core.

A sharp breath drew out of Bucky's slack lips, as his rampant thoughts converged into hyper-speed, voltaic surges of static and screeching echoes of wrenching souls ravaged his mind; shredding his soul away. He wanted to fall back into the asylum of darkness, as he felt the heated fringe of tears collecting over his eyelashes."There's no way out for me, Steve," he murmured out a roughen pitch, morosely.

Steve wanted to discard those infinite words brushing past Bucky's lips; he needed his best friend to prevail at his side. He didn't want Bucky to fade back into the shadows, to become unreachable. It would take blinding courage to face the insurmountable odds of a new dawn, to take a stand against whatever the world threw at them.

He lifted his shimmering azure eyes skyward, holding back the blear of unshed tears, but the pain grief was mounting in his chest. He couldn't restrain that rupture. "It's my fault, all of it, if I only went back under the bridge, I woulda found you..." He swallowed a hard lump down his throat, almost a choked sob. "When you fell off Zola's train, I was too numb inside to look back, and I thought I could carry on without you, Buck, but every day, I hoped to hear your voice tellin' me to get up and put em' on the ropes."

Bucky's impassive demeanor became alertly compromised with a boyish quirk playing on his shapely wide lips. "I used to say that, didn't?" he grunted out a faint chuckle, trying to fall back into an ecstatic spirit of a Brooklyn kid, against the unnameable, relentless horror that crisscrossed through his damned mind. His heavy-lidded eyes lifted to the banks of snow clouds, he rested the hard bone of his stubbled cheek over the bulge of Steve's padded shoulder; tousled dark chestnut tresses draped askew over his bruised and blood flecked relished in the thematic heat emanating from Steve's powerful body; nothing rivaled to that shielding warmth. "I gotta say, punk, nothin' beats this...S'it's the closest thing to home that M' gonna yet."

For seven unendurable, inescapable decades of being a HYDRA drudge, Bucky learned to adapt to the coldness, from hostile, degraded experience, the innumerable tortures that roped his captive soul, merciless beatings from Zola's hand until throated screams perished from his lungs, the whip lashes that left bloodied marks of obedience.

His reborn, enslaved, tragic identity was branded over his dormant heart—the Winter Soldier, searing red ink that was extracted of HYDRA's tentacles poisoned his veins. He belonged into an Elysium, not to the world. He was a resurrected ghost of a machine, programmed for effective termination. A phantasmal instrument of death that struck fear into the hearts of his engaged victims.

All the countless drops of blood he shed, the kill shots and pain he inflicted in the shadows defined that he was a true apex predator; a ravaging wolf- who thirsted for carnage. Right now, his tactic of survival was devolving, Bucky had lost everything in the bleak second, Zemo played the recorded footage of the December 16th, 1992 car wreckage. His nexus to humanity was only Steve, if he lost his best friend, the Winter Soldier would fully demolish him.

Pulling himself out of semi-trance, Bucky felt riddled by the sickening throb generating in his chest. The toxic haze dissolved as onsets of errant tears painstakingly slid over his stubbled cheeks. He was conditioned not to feel-to have a disconnection from human emotion. Aware of that release of unbidden heartache, Bucky bruised his face into Steve's chest. "Please...Don't let me fall again..." he whispered brokenly, his graveled timbre, gurgling with choked sobs. "Don't let me fall again." He repeated those words like a benediction.

Feeling his chest achingly spasm with erratic breaths, Bucky pinched his eyelids tightly shut, to only fall into the nightmarish realm where vivid imagery of the red demonic Kraken skull with six tentacles-the sigil of HYDRA slithered out of the ice reaching to grapple him back into the excruciating void. It was an inescapable limbo-hell dragging him further into the gory river of death where the collection of his ghosts sailed in a lifeless cavalcade. "No-No...I don't wanna hurt em'..." The Klaxon sirens blared in his roiling mind, violent flashes of red morphed into vestiges of blinding rage. An erupting, bestial scream railed in the frigid air. "No!"

Malice surged through his veins aflame, as the command for compliance repossessed his will. Bucky was falling through layers of darkness, abandoning pulses of restraint. The Winter Soldier was becoming unchained from termination.

Growling against clenched teeth, Bucky fingerless, motorcycle-gloved hand reacted automatically to the murderous impulse as he unconsciously pulled out his knife and delivered pain with a stab of hostile precision. His lips arched into a villainous sneer, as the raw, detached resonance of the Winter Soldier snarled volumes of sheer, raving ecstasy."krovotochit' (Bleed)..."

Before Steve had a fleeting, galvanic chance to grab Bucky's wrist, his firm mouth stretched to momentary agony. He gasped in a breathless, tremulous cry, his glistening azure depths turned vapid against the paralyzing shock, he was almost voiceless-overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught that pierced through his spangled uniform and went surgically deep into his muscle. He stared into the feral light of Bucky's ablaze eyes underneath webs of drenched tresses. The blade twisted unerringly and gauged deeper. His hand clamped desperately over Bucky's pulsing wrist, trying to wrench the knife out. The aggressive force of the Winter Soldier didn't avail."Buck...Stop...It's me...S'it's Steve."

Allowing the unhinged momentum of his rapid heartbeat to fuel the conscious of his hijacked thoughts waging against the predatory bloodlust seemingly consuming him; Bucky felt the possessive, fatal impulses dousing out his reluctance. He didn't want to face the damning reality unfurling around him. Not the full measure of undeniable, grievous anguish that reflected in Tony Stark's dark hazel eyes when the footage displayed his merciless, head-banging execution on Howard's venerable body, but the urging variants of Steve's beckoning voice anchored him out of the collapsing void-Steve-just like a bucket of chilled water splashed over his face. "S-Steve!"

With his voice shredding off an enraged snarl, Bucky convulsed frantically, another unevaded onslaught of pain concussed over his rigid bones, he felt utterly immobilized, his vision blurring with onrushes of tears as he focused on the fresh smears of blood in the snow. Steve's blood. His pupils slitted chillingly, as his luminous aquamarine irises went full-blown owlish; he glanced down at the knife clutched in his tensing hand, balanced with a vicious arc threateningly shadowing over Steve's blood-soaked abdomen. Navy blue Nomex-Kevlar was ripped, revealing jets of blood leaking out a gaping hole of flexing muscle.

 _'What the hell have I done...'_

A cold fusion of panic accelerated into full-throttle, Bucky stared at the bloodstained knife clutched in his hand with blank horror. "No...I didn't..." he slurred breathlessly, his brow furrowed with etchings of taut distress underneath dark, tousled strands at the soul-wrenching second he dropped the knife, and shakily encompassed his tremoring hand over the opened wound. All the extent of his dread had come into fruition when he stared into Steve's glistening azure eyes, finding the monstrous reflection of the Winter Soldier froze in a flow of errant tears.

Breath hastened in erratic palpitations as his chest spastically clenched, forcing him to lurch back in sharp arrays of influx terror. Cacophonies of havoc-filled screams deafened his turbulent mind as he tasted wet tears sliding over his parted, quivering lips. "No!" he lashed out a vicious, throated roar, feeling agony revamping. He was paralyzed beyond measure with unadulterated agony, the heaviness of Steve's slack weight crushed him, as the virtuous and defiant super-soldier—his best friend fell inert against his chest.

Squeezing his eyes shut, to seal off the rampant surge of tears, a guttural cry railed out of Bucky, as he numbly gripped onto Steve with his only arm, feeling the slick coating of blood over his trembling palm. He wouldn't lose Steve to the elements of ice and death. He had to believe with a breadth existence of hope that somehow they would make it out of the fray alive."Stevie, you're gonna be okay..." He tried desperately to combat his emotions, wouldn't stare into the last gleam of light of Steve's dimming azure depths—in a space of heartbeat, and by the virtue of brotherly love, Bucky made his definite vow chasing a hushed breath. "M' gonna bring ya home, Steve..."


	6. Chapter 6

**_{6}_**

The reality of his choice to dare fate became apparitions ravaging through his mind. For the past twenty-four hours, Tony was stuck in an implacable limbo, haunted by vivid images of the car wreckage; the bloodied marred face of his father bashing against the car's door by vicious-merciless blows of the Winter Soldier's cybertronic fist. He wanted to obliterate each torturous, unforgivable strain of memory that resurfaced. Sipping a glass of ritualistic vodka, he sat in the middle of the dimly lit hotel room, staring intensity-painstakingly down at the dented alloy face plate of Iron Man that was balancing on his knee.

Imprints of Steve's knuckles were encased in the alloy, reminding him that he failed to rectify past demons. He had engaged the fight out of raw and heart-stricken emotion, destroying the solid ground of their friendship when ghosts emerged from the machine controlled by HYDRA. He was staring into the inescapable void again, standing on the edge and waiting to make the plunge. 'Why did Capiscle threw it all way for Barnes?'

With a rapid gush of bile rising to his throat, Tony forcefully slammed his palm against the carpeted floor. He felt intolerably sick, the memory of the Siberian missile silo wasn't expungable. Burying his face into a draped blanket that cascaded a lump mess over the floor, he composed heaves of breath, trying to regain balance as the agony he harbored wouldn't assail.

In seconds of collapsing further into an abysm of unrelenting grief, a gracing touch of a dainty hand caress over his quaking chest. "Tony," the feminine and gentle cadence beckoned him back.

Fighting against feverish shudders whacking through him, he fleetingly blinked his dark-hazel eyes, refocusing on the luxurious gleam of strawberry-blonde wavelets infused with flecks of copper. Pepper. She was there at his side, kneeling to his level in a stance of elegance, gripping onto a damp facecloth. He felt the droplets seeping into the material of his jeans."Tony, look at me..." Her lyrical tone grew firmly, imploring with a pinch of desperation. The glistening depth of her sea-green irises held lucid promise that was open for him to grasp onto."You're going to be okay..."

"Okay," Tony scoffed in a taut wince; begrudgingly waving her tentative hand away. Nothing would ease down the sickened calamity mounting in him. For too long he allowed grief to remain dormant ever since his father's retired butler Jarvis addressed the tragically agonizing news about the car crash. After that unforgivable December night, he obstructed the heartache, drowning his sorrows with bottles of whiskey, allowing the reckless consumption of alcohol to anesthetize him. Rage was increasingly revamping inside. He clutched his fist tighter against the bed sheet, heaving out pants of constricting breath. "I was lied to by a man who I thought was my friend, Cap chose to save the murderer of my parents, instead of...I don't know, putting a hand on my shoulder."

Pepper's stunned eyes widened against the disinterred truth blasting from Stark's grimacing mouth. Resistance suddenly felt distant, he willed to venture back into those brutal memories that replayed a sharper picture each time. A sense of panic raced through him, as he gripped over the bed sheets, his clenched hands' fisting with no avail. He wanted to scream."Barnes was the damn cold HYDRA terminator puppet who killed them, Pep, I viewed the documented reel footage, I listened to my mother's cries and Barnes just stood there crushing her throat with his bare hand, never turning away until the mission was over," he seethed irately.

"Tony, I had no idea," Pepper whispered softly, brushing her lithe fingers deftly over his pulsing knuckles, trying to ease down the influx of tension. She veered an incredulous glance at the nightstand, only to discover Captain America's shield propped against it, with claw marks sliced over the red and silver paint. A shimmer of unshed tears collected in her widening eyes."Are those claw marks?"

Suppressed back an accelerating pulse of short-wave nausea, Tony nodded tersely, sparing a hardened glance back at the shield with banking vehemence. His goatee swatched chin twitched as he vividly recalled the elusively cunning Black Panther viciously slashing his vibranium claws over Steve's raised shield in front of the airport hanger.

With a shrug of indifference, he averted his dark eyes unwaveringly back to the vodka bottle. There was no refuting that he still felt stokes of contempt venting in his chest. "I still can't buy it that Cap would side with Barnes... I guess Mr. Perfect Teeth does have a dark side in him after all," he remarked tartly.

* * *

Blood. A panic-inducing roil of nauseous dread careened through Bucky's unshakeable core at the damnable, torturous reality his eyes beheld. Even a fraction of pain grew consuming manifest of calamity to relent against. A tempest of smoldering rage was searing in his steel-aquamarine depths...he wouldn't accept the mounting thrall of undeniable anguish, even if it felt like hell. Steve was a stubborn-hearted Brooklyn kid -always had been. Nothing would conquer that spirited resilience.

The incessant whirrs of mechanical control raked against his measured forefront of resistance. He was conditioned to feeling anesthetized, all the brutal assemblage of sadistic methods of submersion electroshocks and flogged lashes from Pierce's hand and being isolated from the warmth of daylight hardened him to become unbreakable-unyielding like ice.

 _'Why the hell did I do this...'_

Tolerance was imperative to exist as HYDRA's elite penetration agent and knife-wielding executioner, to fade into shadows when light revealed blood smears on walls. The extent of unwarranted pain that consumed Bucky at that present moment, was utterly heart-lancing in a tenfold as he forced his eyes to watch a crimson trek of blood oozing from the opened gash that his vicious knife infinitely created.

Glaring listlessly, Bucky drove the clarity of his vision on Steve's blood daubed over his hand. This was catastrophic to wage against his butchered soul. Nothing could be evaded. Once he reined up enough perseverant defiance to face his best friend; Bucky set his stubbled jaw into a bone rigid clench, gearing up fracturing swell of emotions and vestiges of hope, no matter how ineffective the assault of sentiment it seemed.

"Aw, hell, M' s'orry, Steve," Bucky uttered out an enraged mantra, brokenly in a slurring Brooklyn drawl, his lips shaky and his head tilting dismally with his unkempt tresses curtained wildly over the pudgy thickness of his raw, battered cheeks.

His steeled resolve of brotherly promise begun to presumed unforgiveness to divide them soon enough, either by Steve's own mouth or heaven bound eyes. He deserved a fate condemnation or being locked in a cell on the Raft. His pupils constricted with heated rage, as his hand swiftly lifted up the blade catching his stark ghostly reflection.

Emitting a silent roar, Bucky viciously whipped his knife into the darkness. Blood coated over his split lip, he felt numbness engulf the constant sting."Damn it," he seethed gravelly."S'it's because of me, that you're bleedin'..."

Freedom was a futile-unrealistic dream for his reach, and Bucky knew that was no way out for him-so why keep fightin' the inevitable? "You woulda been a helluva lot better without me draggin' ya down..." He despairingly whispered, feeling there was no denying that execrable-unrelenting truth. "Now, s'it's my own damn fault that you're bleedin' out of your gut..." He gnawed on the swell of his raw lip, swallowing down the brackish tang, as the blaze of reckless hope dimmed in his steel-aquamarine depths. He was inevitably on the knife edge."M' messed up in the head and sometimes I think maybe distance is all I can give to keep you safe." For the monster inside me.

"S-Stow that talk, Buck," Steve breathed out achingly, his pitch raspy. He was on the edge of falling unconscious, the pain generating in his side had increased to levels of unbridled anguish. He gritted his teeth, his paling lips folding into a taut grimace. Despite the extent of pain annulling his slacked body, he remained cognizant of the guilt Bucky doggedly tried to mask, in a strenuous effort, his large hand reached to clutch Bucky's tensed shoulder, delivering a firm grip of unassailed reassurance. His breath was rapidly laboring."I-I would keep on followin' you, no matter what, Buck."

"Hey, at least we went out full swinging, huh,?" Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, emitting a dry chuckle, his full lips quirked up, conveying a half-hearted smile at the dumb and stubborn punk who never gave up on him. Steve caught a glimpse of a tiny glint of inherent mischief in his steel-blue depths. "Gotta have some good words to finish off since nothin' else will matter anymore." He flashed a deadened glance down at the vivid smears of blood tainting the pure white contrast of snow.

Just another cold, unremitting glimpse of what murderous horrors his rabid mind was capable of unleashing if his unrepentant soul was compromised again. He pinched his eyebrows. For a fleeting second, he was grappled into a mindless torpor. The piercing glacial light of his aquamarine irises eclipsed with shadows of unrested ghosts. He was ruthlessly determined not to let those trigger words to lance through his hijacked mind again. He didn't want to become the autonomous and efficient weapon, to feel the electroshocks seizing him back into dormant oblivion. He didn't want to hurt Steve. The implanted synapses of HYDRA's control wouldn't relent. He was a dredge-nothing more than a reactivated drone charged to comply.

"I s'just don't wanna go in deep again...M' tryin' to fight this HYDRA stuff but it's still puttin' me on the ropes."

"Open the right pouch of my belt," Steve rasped, huskily, unshed tears were splotching the clarity of his vision. Bucky synched his brows with the sightless trace of confusion, his gaze heavily darting over the leather pouches as his fingerless-gloved hand deftly opened the one that was captured in his sight, but Steve's encompassing touch held his trembling palm steady, despite the moment of bordered agony whacking through his core; giving Bucky a piece of identity felt damn worth it.

In those subtle seconds of incipient trust, the former Winter Soldier slowly clutched two metal plates attached to a chain necklace. His GI dog tags. "I've been holdin' them ever since that day..." He choked out a heavy breath, unable to finish those gravitated words.

Furrowing his brows dismally into a taut pinch, Bucky intently stared at the metal tags clutched in Steve's hand blankly. His mind sidetracked him. He felt an awakened sense of attachment to those remnants of his disremembered past. Fringes of memory became clearer -his hand shakily reached to grasp the chain.

"I remember wearin' these before I fell off the train..." Bucky whispered ruefully, not accepting that piece of an honorable and unshackled name. Discarding that glimpse of restored truth was utterly agonizing, but he needed to find himself again-the real James "Buchanan Barnes, not a cybertronic hybrid of lost would now be a trial to face every day. The payload of lives he took, would always be an endless blood-song-a tortuous crescendo barraging against his damaged heart.

It was his inescapable and unrelenting scourge to fight. Sparing a frayed glance at the blood oozing out of Steve's padded mid-drift, Bucky fiercely tore his teary steel-blue eyes away; looking for an outlet in the forest cast of darkness enveloping their frozen stiff bodies. "S'orry, punk, but I can't wear em', not anymore..." He dipped his head low, downcastly, almost in silent reverence to that obliterated identity.

"Buck..."

Repressing a blur of tears, Bucky vehemently shook his head, gritting."Stop thinkin' that M' still a not a kid from Brooklyn," he rasped heavily, clutching the dangling chain into his straining fist. 'I don't know who the hell I am anymore," A raw snarl edged his low breaths, as he involuntarily dropped the dog tags in the snow, and quickly flipped onto his knees, grounding his bulked weight steady, before slotting his fleshed arm securely over the slender ridges of Steve's broad waist. His tactical jacket was becoming imbued with blood, he didn't care.

"If I can get carry your ass out of here, then it will be damn worth it." Winching Steve's heavy leaden form up against the hard planes of his chest with gentle ease, Bucky felt a sudden immersion of unbidden hope grappling him down as he intoned one unwavering promise that he knew to be unbreakable-everlasting in their Brooklyn spirit of hell bent defiance."You're my mission."

A wistful smirk quirked faintly over Steve's lips. His azure eyes held the serene light, despite the nauseous fever mounting in his blood. "Y'know that's the third time I've heard you sayin' that..." he drawled, raggedly.

Bucky grimaced, ruefully."Yeah, but that was when HYDRA had my damn mind rigged," he seethed back, taking a moment to orientate himself. Swiping a glance over the snow bank, the raw coolness of his steel-blue depths intensified as he calculated the distance of hauling Steve back into the clear in his scope of vision. A vacuous dread engulfed him. The hot slick wetness of blood dripped over his stiffened knuckles. He couldn't get his bearings against the frisson of pain overwhelming him.

Taking a staggering step against the faint moonglow, Bucky willed his body to remain grounded as he tactically advanced in wobbling stride. "Okay, we're gonna out of here," he breathed heavily, encircling his arm over the broad planes of Steve's drenched back. He wouldn't believe in the soul-crushing inevitable, that his best friend would become another causality of this endless war of his threadbare unbreakable brotherhood was thicker than blood and their Brooklyn spirit was a raging force that wouldn't be reckoned with. "S'just keep it together, Steve..." he urged.

Doing his utmost not to surrender to gravity, Steve hastily employed his unshakeable and unerring command, stubbornly grounding his weight firmly against the hard planes of Bucky's torso, as unbridled pulses of his enhanced strength ousted the constant and excruciating pulses of agony surmounting his body.

Suddenly a feverish clash of stifling nausea that overlapped his senses was spreading inexorably as he began to taste bile climbing up his raw, heaving throat."Buck-M' gonna be sick," he slurred hastily, feeling the intolerable urge to expel the acid contents of his bruised stomach.

Steve froze in a quaking heartbeat, nearly collapsing to his knees against precarious balance as Bucky's arm braced over his midsection, retched and choking gasps deafened his hearing. His eyes screwed tight in the rushing seconds he desperately complied to the reeling urge to vomit. Darkness ensnared his sight and the wafting, putrid redolence of stomach bile careened him on the verge of slipping away from consciousness. All he heard shouting back to him the frantic cadence of Bucky's urgent voice.

"Steve...You gotta hold on!"

Watching his best friend collapse into the snow bank, Bucky's lips parted shakily as pained sobs choked out of him while his heart raged a thunderous crescendo in his chest. He wanted to scream in livid anguish. His voice was subdued as more discarded tears made a painstaking trek down the bristles of stubborn over the chiseled knife-edged sharpness of his broad jaw. He felt his throat clogging up as the taste of salt coated his wet lips. Everything became soul-wrenching intolerable, as Bucky begun to realize he was on the verge of crying. It was the only harboring solace that kept him from falling into the void.

Hanging his head down with slackening motion, wetness collected over the material of his tactical jacket, drenching his lengthy mane as Bucky's vision swam into a feverish haze.

"You can't give up the fight, you're stronger than this, hell, you're strong than me," Bucky gritted out hitched sobs, the depth of his graveled timbre edged with a choking breath. He felt scraped raw on the inside. The resurgence of foolish hope was becoming a vacant thought as moments passed. His gloveless fingers clutched desperately over the blood soak Kevlar of Steve's uniform in the torturous second he felt an ebbing sense of immense defeat mounting to its apex.

He couldn't brave himself to face another day without Steve-his little stubborn Brooklyn brother. He made a soul promise to Sarah Rogers, and now he felt the utmost of crushing failure seizing over his distressed heart. Steve risked everything to save him in the crosshairs; blood, sweat, and tears. All he did in return was stab him in the back.

Right now, more than anything Bucky wanted to take Steve's place, feel the essence of Winter Soldier bleed out of him."S'it my damn fault…" he drawled in a pathetic slur, digging his clenching knuckles, he pinched his blurring eyes shut and held onto Steve, fiercely believing that somehow they would make it out of the fray.

Bucky needed to enforce his strength and will himself to carry onward. Fueled with a phantom resolve of hell-bent defiance, and with a wince of effort, Bucky righted himself back up and jerked Steve's padded shoulder. "C'mon, punk, on your feet," he whispered gravely, knowing that Steven Rogers never stays down.

Sure enough, Steve's eyelids slit momentary open to the awareness of his voice. A half-smile tugged crookedly at Bucky's blood smudged lips, as he mirrored Steve's fever bright azure eyes. A hot spear of unbridled emotion lanced through his chest."Grgh," he snarled under breath, stiffening his bristled jaw."Stop being a killjoy, Rogers, and help me haul your frozen ass out of here."

"S-so you do care about me, huh?" Steve slurred with a throated, raspy wince, grinning faintly.

"Yeah, but if you don't wipe that stupid grin off your face, M' gonna leave here," Bucky teasingly returned with mischief gleaming alight in his steel-blue irises, and settled his gloved palm deftly over the chrome star insignia of Captain America's ensemble. It was the only reachable memory of harboring unshakeable valor.

Looking back intently at the dog tags he discarded, Bucky chewed on his lip, indecisively, before he quickly grabbed the chain and shoved into a pocket of his black tactical pants. He didn't want to wear them, not until he felt honorable in spirit again. Maybe he needed to save Steve to redeem himself?


End file.
